Snowglobe
by Noofle
Summary: S1 Ep2. The Doctor and Brittany travel to modern day London, but they get caught up in a chain of mysterious disappearances, UNIT investigations and Torchwood's snooping. Rated T just to be on the safe side.
1. Creatures in the Night

**A/N: Welcome back folks. This is the second episode in my series, continuing on from the events of Second Chance. So, I s'pose this is Brittany's first proper TARDIS trip. Okay then. Read on and enjoy, and leave me lots of nice lovely reviews! (not trying to sound desperate or anything)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.**

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SERIES ONE: EPISODE TWO

**SNOWGLOBE**

**CHAPTER ONE: CREATURES IN THE NIGHT**

White lightning flashed across the sky, rolling thunder following almost instantaneously. Heavy raindrops pattered on roofs and roads, filling gutters and turning grassy fields into muddy wastes. A lone figure hurried across a wide bridge arching over the Thames, making his way into South London.

His only defence against the storm was a heavy blue raincoat draped around his shoulders and thick, black gumboots on his feet. Under that, he wore a plain grey sweater and long khaki cargo pants. His name was Christopher Walker, and he was on a mission. Of course, he would have much preferred to be at home in the warm with his wife and two kids, but his job didn't always allow such luxuries. Instead, he was stuck out here in the rain following up a lead on his current case.

He ducked across a road, dodging honking cars and avoiding deep puddles. A quick search through his pockets yielded a crumpled packet of cigarettes, which he proceeded to open. He sheltered under the eaves of a house, cupping his hand around a cigarette to protect it from the elements while he lit it. He took a quick pull on the smoke, blowing a little grey cloud out from between his teeth.

Chris set off again, cigarette in hand, coat wrapped tight around his body to keep out the driving winds and sleeting rain. His workmates at the police station believed that he would find nothing out here, and had told him as much, but someone had to go have a look. He had been working on this case for the past week, and this was the only true lead he had found during that time. Six days ago a man, Greg Miller, had been reported missing. He had gone to work in the morning, and never came home. Within the next seventy-two hours, a further twenty people had disappeared, with more everyday. There was one link between the missing people.

They all worked at the same place, a textiles factory in South-east London. A few officers had walked past the place, and it seemed normal enough. It was old and run-down, for the company that owned it had barely enough money to run the factory, let alone repair it.

Chris paused across the road from the factory, dropping his cigarette in the bin next to him. His wife always nagged him to stop smoking, but he could never find the time or the effort to. There was always an excuse, always an easy way out.

He shook his head. Focus on the job at hand. Finish what he had come here to do, so he could go home, and possibly even have dinner if he was lucky. The factory in itself did look normal. It was one of many large buildings on the street, nestled between a warehouse and a rundown derelict apartment block. Chris slowly walked across the road. The factory should be empty, or at least that's what he hoped.

He pulled some pliers out of his coat, and broke the lock on a window. Chris glanced around quickly, to make sure no one was watching, and climbed through the window. He closed the window behind him with a quiet click and sighed. The things he would do for his job. Still, there was no harm in a quick look around, and if it helped solve the disappearance mysteries, all the better.

The room he had entered through the window looked like an abandoned storage room, with cardboard boxes and stray bits of cloth strewn everywhere. Deciding that this room did not hold the key to the disappearances, Chris opened and stepped through the only door in the room. He found himself in a corridor, with numerous doors leading off at regular intervals. He opened the first one, and peered inside. It was some kind of office. There was a boring desk with a computer perched atop it in the centre of the room, and old paperwork thrown into haphazard piles all over the floor. The next three doors showed similar offices.

At the end of the corridor was a door unlike all the others in the corridor. Chris pulled a torch out of his pocket and turned it on to get a better look. While all the other doors had been made of flimsy wood, this one was smooth, curved metal. At first glance, it looked like a submarine hatch, built into the wall, but there was something out of place about it. Chris grabbed the wheel at the centre of the door, and turned it. Expecting to meet resistance, he was almost flung off-balance when the wheel spun freely beneath his hands. With the hiss of escaping gas, the door swung outwards.

Chris clambered through the dark opening after a moment's hesitation. He hadn't been expecting a shiny metal door in the middle of the administration offices, and his instincts told him to turn back. Once he stepped over the threshold, dim, white lights flickered on overhead, revealing a silvery metal corridor. A metal grille covered the floor, shiny pipes and conduits snaking along beneath his feet.

He wasn't an expert, but this didn't seem human. He looked back at the door, unsure of whether he should retreat or go on. However, before he could make the decision, something grabbed him from behind, dragging him further down the metal corridor.

A few minutes later, a scream echoed through the factory, dieing away slowly, until all that remained was a whisper. There was no-one around to hear the cry.


	2. Of Chips and Disappearances

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who....and I ate all those cookies I was rewarding you diligent reviewers with. :(

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CHAPTER TWO: OF CHIPS AND DISAPPEARANCES

"You just can't beat good old British chips."

Brittany continued frowning at the alien sitting before her. They could go anywhere in all of space and time, and they had come here. They had come to twenty-first century Earth. Out of all the places they could have gone, the Doctor had chosen to bring her to some dingy little shop on twenty-first century Earth.

"Oh, come on Brittany. You must be starving," the Doctor said happily, waving a chip at her. "These are absolutely amazing."

She folded her arms with a sigh. "Yeah, whatever," she grumbled, watching a mouse skitter across the floorboards. "I'm sure they are."

The Doctor followed her gaze, giving the small mouse an interested look. He turned back to Brittany with a shrug. "It's your loss," he said, popping another chip into his mouth. "A few health code violations never bother me."

Brittany shook her head in dismay and looked out of a grimy window. She could just make out a street outside, with a couple of cars parked along its length. The TARDIS was sitting on the corner of an alleyway, but surprisingly, no one was giving it any notice. They just walked right past it without a second glance. Brittany had never imagined that her first trip off-planet would be quite like this. The Doctor didn't seem to have much control over his ship, and to put it bluntly, this place stank.

A sharp prod in the shoulder brought her out of her reverie. She shot the Doctor a harsh glare. "What?"

He smiled and flapped a newspaper in her face. "Have a look at this."

Brittany read the headline out loud. "Mysterious disappearances baffle authorities." She frowned at the Doctor. "That certainly doesn't sound good."

The Doctor's grin widened. "It says here, that almost thirty people have gone missing over the past week, the latest of which being the detective working on the case. Some chap named Christopher Walker."

Brittany shrugged. "So?"

"So, we go find out what happened," the Doctor replied in an exasperated tone. He blew his breath out between his lips and raised both of his eyebrows. "You have a lot to learn Brittany." Readjusting his blue suit and slinging his brown overcoat on, the Time Lord stood and ran out of the shop. Brittany grabbed the newspaper off the table, and followed him out, blinking in the harsh light of the sun.

The Doctor smiled at her, slowing down and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Where do you think we should look first?" he asked Brittany cheerfully. She sat down on a nearby bench, and unfolded the newspaper. After a quick scan of the front-page article, she looked up at the Doctor.

"What makes you think you can work it out, if the police don't even have any leads?" she asked, pointedly jabbing a finger at the newspaper.

The Doctor waggled his one of his fingers at her. "Just because a newspaper says the police don't have any leads, doesn't mean they don't have any." His expression took on a thoughtful look. "Actually, I think I might go talk to them myself. They're bound to know something."

Brittany rolled up the newspaper and threw it in a bin as they resumed walking. The Doctor had decided to start whistling a merry tune, and a bird tweeted somewhere off to her right. Neither of those occurrences helped raise her spirits, and she wrapped her jacket tighter around her body to ward off the cold wind that was whistling between the buildings. It was cold compared to her tropical, humid homeworld of Sydoriv, but the Doctor didn't seem to mind. Actually, she couldn't ever remember him sweating in the sweltering Sydoriv heat either, even though he had insisted on wearing that heavy coat of his.

A car drove past them, noisy and smelly compared to the skimmers she was used to. They ran on gasoline, she recalled from the history course she had done in university. Earth was so primitive compared to her home, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste as a truck rumbled past them. The Doctor, however, didn't seem to care, breathing deeply and whistling merrily, unfazed by the amount of cancer-causing fumes he was inhaling. Perhaps his species didn't get cancer?

They paused at a set of lights, and the Doctor hammered a silver button on the pole next to him. Brittany impatiently waited next to him for the cars to stop, and once they did, she set off at a furious pace across the road. The Doctor hid a smile as he followed her.

Her reaction to London was amusing to the Time Lord, though he was trying not to show it. Many of his previous companions had been British through and through, and had thought cars and traffic lights were mundane and boring things, hardly worth a second thought. However, these everyday things were irritating to Brittany, and she made no effort to hide her displeasure. The Doctor covered his mouth with his hand, concealing the smirk that was starting to form. Now it looked as if Brittany was taking out her anger on an innocent sparrow. He decided he should intervene.

"What are you doing to that poor little bird?" he asked, standing between Brittany and the sparrow, which let out a sweet chirp.

Brittany pointed at it accusingly. "It pooed on me!" she exclaimed angrily, taking a step forward. The Doctor put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Now, now, we don't want anyone to get hurt," he said calmly, pulling Brittany away from the little bird. He pulled a serviette out of his pocket, and carefully wiped the white smudge off Brittany's shoulder. He chucked the dirty serviette in the bin, and smiled at Brittany. "All better?"

She frowned and avoided making eye contact. "I s'pose," she muttered. Her frown deepened as she looked over the Doctor's shoulder, and the alien followed her gaze. She was staring at a little shop with a glass-fronted window; various mundane products arrayed on the display shelves. He narrowed his eyes and looked closer. After thirty seconds of close scrutiny, he turned back to Brittany.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, unsure of why his companion was staring at what was a perfectly ordinary shop.

She slowly extended one of her hands, pointing at a particular display in the window. "Look at the snowglobes."


	3. He's Here

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.....the BBC does. And I thank them for it! (-fires a party popper-)

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CHAPTER THREE: HE'S HERE

The Brigadier stood at the back of the room, hands clasped behind his back. Unified Intelligence Taskforce, UNIT for short, was an organisation dedicated to fighting alien threats. After the dalek invasion last year, most of their offices had to be rebuilt, and the London branch was no different. Still situated inside the Tower of London, it was the main branch of UNIT, and it saw far more than its fair share of extraterrestrials. Computer monitors arrayed around the room showed various displays, many of them radar images of the Sol system.

Employees of UNIT were busy at work within this room, furiously typing on computers and rushing to and fro with sheets of paper clutched in their hands. Everyone was moving at breakneck speed, intent on trying to get through the excessive amount of work they had been given.

The Brigadier sighed and sat down heavily on a nearby seat. After detective Christopher Walker had gone missing last night, UNIT had taken control of the investigation. They suspected that aliens were behind the disappearances, but there were no leads at all. Most of the missing people had worked at a factory in South-east London, which had been recently taken over by a new company that made novelty souvenirs. The whole factory had been searched from top to bottom, but they'd found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

"Brigadier?"

His head snapped up from his inspection of the table, and he looked at the owner of the nervous voice. It was one of his top employees, a woman named Sally. He remembered that she had been around since the Harriet Jones era, when the Sycorax invaded London. "What?" he snapped, his irritation exacerbated by lack of sleep.

"Sir, he's arrived," she replied, not at all fazed by the Brigadier's sharpness.

The Brigadier stood up quickly. "Who's arrived?" he asked, even though he already knew what the answer was going to be.

Sally cleared her throat. "It's the Doctor, sir. He's here."

The Brigadier swept past her. "Where is he?" Sally led him out into the middle of the room and indicated for him to watch the main screen. She tapped some keys on one of the computers, and a CCTV image filled the large screen on the wall.

"This is a current image," Sally said, steeping away from the computer to watch the screen. The hubbub in the room died down as everyone craned their necks to see what was happening on the screen.

The image was from a camera mounted on the front of a shop, somewhere in South London. A tall, thin man and lady with brown hair were standing out the front of the shop, obviously talking to each other, although this particular camera didn't have a microphone. The Brigadier could only see the back of the man's head, but knew who he was looking at. He had seen enough photos of the Doctor to recognise the alien, and this man was undoubtedly the Time Lord. However, he didn't recognise the lady standing next to the Doctor; she was a far cry from the Donna he was expecting, but the Doctor did seem to switch companions regularly.

The Brigadier paused the image just as the Doctor turned towards the screen. Turning to face the rest of the occupants of the room, he said, "Find that man. I want him here in ten minutes." He pointed at two of the soldiers standing in the room. "You two, find the general, and tell him to take a squad out and collect the Doctor."

He turned back to the screen. If aliens were indeed involved, the Doctor was the expert to get.

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Standing so close to the glass front of the shop his breath misted on the window, the Doctor peered at the displays. There was something strange about the snowglobes, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. They just looked out of place, as if they shouldn't be in the shop at all. He grabbed Brittany's arm and dragged her inside the shop. A little bell tinkled quietly as the door opened, and the shopkeeper appeared out of a side door. He took up his position behind the counter with a friendly smile.

"What can I help you with?" he asked pleasantly.

The Doctor shot him a wide smile, and pointed at the window display. "I'd like to have a look at those snowglobes, if that's alright with you."

The shopkeeper made his way across the room. "It certainly is. My name's Trevor, by the way."

"I'm the Doctor, and this is Brittany," the Time Lord replied, clapping Brittany on the shoulder.

Trevor drew a bundle of keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the glass cabinet that protected his window display. "Doctor…?"

"Just the Doctor."

Trevor shrugged, and slid open the cabinet. "Here, have a look. I only got them in this morning."

"Cheers." The Doctor grabbed a snowglobe at random, and peered at it. It contained a merry little snowman and a pointy Christmas tree. He handed it to Brittany, and picked up another one.

She looked at the snowman with a frown. "It looks normal enough," she said, shaking it around and watching the fake snow with mild interest.

The Doctor looked at her absently, before returning to inspecting a third globe. "Yeah… hang on, what's this?" He held the snowglobe in his hand up to eye level. Brittany leant in for a closer look. Trevor peered over her shoulder.

"Look at him," Brittany said quietly, pointing at the figure inside the snowglobe. It was a tiny little man, wearing a blue raincoat. His hands were up in front of his face, as if trying to ward something off, and his face was etched in a permanent expression of horror. "It's so lifelike," Brittany breathed, craning her head for a closer look.

The Doctor shook his head slowly. "It isn't just lifelike. It's living." He looked at the man inside the snowglobe. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said sincerely. Turning to Trevor, he asked, "Where did you get these from?"

Trevor, confused by the suited man's last comment frowned and tried to remember. "I think they're made in South London somewhere. I do know that the company is called Thoraln Industries." Seeing the Doctor's frozen expression, he added, "Is that important?"

"Thoraln…" The Doctor looked worried. "That can't be right." He dug two quid out of his pocket, handed it to Trevor and ran out the door, snowglobe still in hand. Brittany groaned, and dashed after him.


	4. Taxi!

**A/N: Thanks to anyone who is still reading this far on. I just have to say, I can't wait for Planet of the Dead. It's gonna be awesome!!!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. That would be absurd!**

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**CHAPTER FOUR: TAXI!!**

The Doctor paused his mad dash, and looked around impatiently. He had no idea how to find Thoraln Industries, but had run off anyway. South London was far too big to search on foot. With an energetic wave, the Doctor hailed a cab.

"Doctor, slow down!" Brittany shouted, just rounding the corner of the street. The Doctor looked back at her and rolled his eyes.

The taxi driver wound down his window, and peered at the Doctor. "Where can I take yer?"

"How much is it to get to Thoraln Industries?" the Time Lord asked the driver. Turning his head away to shout at Brittany, he called, "Hurry up! We haven't got all day." She groaned, and increased the pace of her jog.

The taxi driver checked his meter. "Should be about forty quid."

The Doctor nodded. "Good. Fine." He hauled open the door to the cab, and clambered inside. Brittany finally caught up, throwing herself against the doorframe and panting heavily.

"You run far too fast," she said between gasps. "Is it always like this with you?"

The Doctor nodded at her with a wide smile. He dug something out of his pocket, and handed it to Brittany.

"Take this," he said, pressing the leather wallet into his companion's hand. "I want you to go to the nearest police station, and search through their records."

"This is your magic paper thing, isn't it?" she asked, curiously peering inside the wallet.

"Psychic paper," the Doctor pointed out. "It makes people see what you want them to see." Tapping the back of the driver's seat, he said, "To Thoraln Industries, thanks." He waved at Brittany as the car moved off. She stared down the road for a while, before glancing at the leather wallet in her hands. Slowly shaking her head, she wandered off along the street, still unsure of what she was supposed to be doing.

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The first couple of minutes in the taxi were dead quiet, apart from the rumble of the engine, and the clunks as the driver changed gears. The Doctor just couldn't handle the silence any more.

"What's your name?" he asked with a smile, leaning as far forward as his seatbelt would allow.

"Tom," the driver replied curtly. He took his eyes off the road for a second, to give his passenger a cursory glance. The man in the back seat was somewhere in his thirties by the look of things, but had horrible dress sense. A light brown overcoat hung loosely around his shoulders, wasn't that odd, given the time of year, but what was strange was the blue pinstripe suit underneath that. To finish off, the man had added red trainers, and swept all his hair forward. Catching Tom's look, the Doctor smiled wider.

"Tom. That's a nice name," he said, for no apparent reason at all. "I've always liked that name. Except for the last Tom I met. Not a friendly fellow."

Tom focused his attention on the road ahead of him. "You do know what's been happening at Thoraln Industries, don't you?" he asked, stopping at a set of traffic lights.

The Doctor nodded vigorously. "Yeah," he said reassuringly. "All those disappearances. Nasty stuff. Why?"

With an absent shrug, Tom accelerated the taxi around a corner. "Just that friend of yours," he explained. "She doesn't look like she's from around these parts."

"No, she's not. You got me there. She's from…" The Doctor took a breath, and said the first place name that came to mind. "…Cardiff."

Tom nodded. "Cardiff. Doesn't surprise me."

The Doctor smirked at the taxi driver's comment. Cardiff was built on a rift in space and time, and far too many strange things happened there. Torchwood tried to keep most of it covered up, but invariably, information leaked out. Brittany could easily pass herself off as a Cardiff resident, and no one would ever ask any questions.

He settled back into his chair, trying to get comfortable on the shiny leather. "What can you tell me about the disappearances?"

Tom spared a second for a second glance at the Doctor. "Not that much. Only what I've read in the newspaper."

The Time Lord nodded, smiling to himself as Tom pulled over out the front of a factory. He undid his seatbelt, and leaned forward, sticking his head between the two front seats. "The only trouble is, the newspaper didn't say anything about Thoraln Industries," he said, watching with satisfaction as a startled look broke out across Tom's face. "So, where did you get your information from?"

"I, uh…I don't know what you're talking about," Tom stammered, glancing out the window nervously.

The Doctor shook his head. "Oh, I think you do. Tell UNIT that I want them to stay out of this, you hear me? I don't want you lot interfering."

The driver's mouth dropped open. "How did you know?"

"UNIT? It was easy," the Doctor said dismissively. "You soldiers all have a certain look about you. When you asked me about Thoraln Industries that gave me a big hint. But I have to say that my biggest clue was that." He pointed at the car's dashboard. "You left your ID card on the dash."

Tom had the grace to look embarrassed as the Doctor opened the door and stepped out of the car. He started to walk off, but turned around and leant on Tom's door. The soldier quickly wound down the window.

"Tell the Brigadier that I don't want him to do anything. I can handle this myself," the Doctor growled, before stalking off towards the factory. Tom watched him slam through the revolving doors on the front of the building, then pulled a walkie-talkie out of the car's glove box.

"This is Silverhawk four. Do you copy?" he said, depressing the button on the side of the radio.

The reply came almost instantaneously. "We copy you, Silverhawk four. What do you have to report?"

Tom took a deep breath before continuing. "I've just had contact with the Doctor. He knows we're here, and has ordered us to stand down. He asked me to tell you not to do anything. He was very insistent on that point, sir."


	5. Bad Timing

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.....or Torchwood for that matter. (My minions are moving into place as we speak)

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CHAPTER FIVE: BAD TIMING

With a roar, the Brigadier sent a chair flying across the room. A couple of the people at the computer terminals looked up nervously, but they were completely ignored. The Brigadier threw himself down onto the nearest chair. How dare he! The Doctor had no right to order UNIT around, and, as a scientific advisor, the Time Lord had neither the influence nor the rank to tell the Brigadier what to do.

And yet, he found he was considering the alien's request. It was funny how the world worked like that. He held complete authority over UNIT, but the Doctor's warning stood out prominently among his thoughts. What would the Time Lord do if UNIT didn't comply with his requests? He had heard some of the Doctor's names, and knew that were well earned.

Maybe it was time for a compromise. The Brigadier pulled himself to his feet with a resigned sigh, and signalled for one of the soldiers standing at the entrance of the room to come over. "Sir?" the soldier asked, not sure if he was in trouble or not

"I need your radio," the Brigadier said, and the soldier handed it over with a shrug. The Brigadier dismissed the soldier with a wave of his hand, and adjusted the frequency on the hand-held radio.

"Greyhound 20, this is HQ. Take squads one and two, and take up flanking positions on the target," he said. "Do you copy?"

There was a burst of static before the reply came through. "HQ, this is Greyhound 20. We copy you loud and clear. Moving to flanking positions now. Do we have permission to engage?"

"Negative, Greyhound 20. Hold position until further order. Do you copy that soldier?"

"Yes HQ. I copy that."

The Brigadier chucked the radio down on his desk, and sat down in the chair he had just vacated. The Doctor had just thrown a spanner in the works all right, and he couldn't afford to engage his target while there was a civilian within the building, Time Lord or not. His thoughts strayed back to the woman he had seen the Doctor with earlier. A photo of her was sitting on his desk, and he picked it up.

She looked to be in her mid twenties, with brown hair and a slender build. Her clothes were odd; she was wearing a short sleeved jacket, that looked as if it were designed to let the cold in, rather that keep the wearer warm, and knee length shorts made of a thin material.

They had run the picture through the database, and had found nothing. Not a mention. She didn't even match up with any school, university or driver's licence photos. It was as if she didn't exist. The Brigadier frowned. If there was a non-existent person, he knew who he had to call.

"Sally!" he shouted across the room, and the lady immediately stood up. "I need you to get me a line to Torchwood."

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A bang echoed through the Torchwood hub, followed by a series of crashes, which was then followed by a string of swear words. Captain Jack Harkness stumbled out of his office, threw his greatcoat on the ground, and proceeded to jump up and down on it. Satisfied he'd put out the fire, Jack slung his coat back over his shoulders and turned around to survey the damage down to his office.

Most of the wall, floor and ceiling were blackened, and his paperwork was charred beyond recognition. His desk had collapsed, and the door, well, the door was nowhere to be seen. A quick search revealed that it was jammed into the ceiling just outside of his office. He just stood there and stared at it for a long time. "I hope that doesn't come out of my pay check," he muttered darkly.

He was still standing there, looking at his door, when Ianto and Gwen arrived at a run. "Jack, what happened?" Ianto asked. "We heard an explosion…" His eyes flicked up at the ceiling. "Oh."

Gwen had also noticed the door. "How did that get up there?"

Jack shrugged, and picked his away across the charred debris scattered over the floor of his office. "I was playing with some alien tech. It blew up in my face." He shrugged again. "No biggie." He smiled at his two team members. "At least, now I know what not to do with it." A small, metallic object was sitting amid the wreckage of Jack's desk, so he picked it up. "Still intact too."

Just at that moment, the phone rang. Jack nodded at Ianto to go get it, and returned to salvaging what he could from the office. "I think I'm going to need a new coffee mug," he said, retrieving a blackened shard of pottery out of the carnage. "Pity. I quite liked this one."

"Jack!" Ianto called from down the hall. "I have UNIT on the line for you."

Jack tucked the explosive alien device into his pocket, and set off down the hall with Gwen in tow. "UNIT? Bad timing," he said, curiously taking the phone off Ianto once he reached the entrance room to the hub. Lifting the phone to his ear, he said, "Hello?"

"Am I talking to Captain Harkness?" a gruff voice replied.

"The one and the only," Jack replied, winking at Gwen and Ianto.

"Good. I need you to run a search for me."

Jack wedged the phone on his shoulder, and arrayed both hands over the nearest keyboard. "Go ahead."

"We have a person we need you to search that is not within our database. A ghost you might say."

Jack raised an eyebrow, but let the caller continue.

"We are sending you a picture of her now. Run it through your system, and see what you turn up."

"Sure," Jack replied. "I'll just have to put you on hold for a moment." There was a grunt in reply, and Jack set the phone down on the desk.

"What did they want?" Gwen asked curiously.

Jack kept his eyes locked on the computer screen before him. "It seems UNIT has a picture of a person that doesn't exist. They want us to run it through our database, and see what we find." A message flashed up on the screen, and Jack hit a few keys in response. "Here it comes."

It took a few seconds for the whole photo to come through, but once it did, Jack's mouth fell open in shock. There were two people in the image, and one was clearly recognisable as the Doctor, but the woman standing next to him was someone that Jack had never expected to see again.

"Brittany?" he asked, mostly to himself.

Ianto took a closer look at the picture. "You know this person?"

Jack nodded, and enlarged the image. "Brittany Harvey, native of the 38th century. Has an obsession with fire," he added, as an afterthought.

"38th century? Does that mean…?" Gwen began, staring at the woman on the screen.

"…The Doctor's had a hand in this," Jack finished. "Hold on." He picked up the phone again, and held it up to his ear, eyes still staring at the screen in disbelief. "UNIT? This is Captain Jack."

"Captain, did your search find anything?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid I can't tell you what."

"What do you mean?" the caller asked, anger rising in his voice.

Jack glanced at Ianto, then continued. "The information you are requesting is highly classified under regulation 6a of the Torchwood founding statement."

"I am the Brigadier! You cannot withhold information from me!"

Jack held the phone away from his ear until the Brigadier had stopped roaring in anger. "I think you'll find that I can," Jack replied in his most infuriatingly pleasant voice. "As leader of Torchwood 3, I hold the final authority over all the information we have within our database, and that means I can choose to withhold whatever I feel like. I hope you have a good day." He hung the call up, and grinned at Ianto and Gwen.

"Regulation 6a," Gwen scoffed.

Jack shrugged. "I didn't want UNIT finding out about Brittany; otherwise she'd be in a whole lot of trouble. Torchwood, on the other hand, can snoop to its heart's content." He looked at Ianto. "Well, get to it. I want us scanning the CCTV networks and public security cameras. I want to know what the hell Brittany is doing here."

As Ianto and Gwen set to work at the computer terminals next to him, Jack couldn't help wondering what the Doctor was doing in London. Whenever the Time Lord turned up, trouble always seemed to follow.

* * *

Sally hid a smile a she watched the Brigadier's reaction. Everyone in the room who had nothing better to do had listened to the phone call to Torchwood, and Sally couldn't help but like how Jack had so easily brushed the Brigadier's demands away. The head of UNIT was used to getting what he wanted, and it was not often said no to him. Torchwood was beyond even the government's control, and technically, that meant they could do whatever they wanted.

The Brigadier slammed the phone back down on the receiver, and stalked out of the room, a scowl marring his face.

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**A/N: And there you have it. The return of Torchwood. In my original plans, they didn't show up at all, but I had to make the chapter longer, and, well, the idea to blow up Jack's office just popped into my head at the last second.**


	6. Charades

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who....and yet, I have taken over that piece of dust on the other side of the desk! It is only a matter of time before the world is within my grasp!

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CHAPTER SIX: CHARADES

The entrance foyer of Thoraln Industries was plush and fancy, with smooth hardwood floors and wooden covering on the walls. The factory did not impress the Doctor though. For one, the service was horrible. Two, even though the inside looked nice and fancy, the outside was still run down and dirty. However, the main reason was that whenever he glanced outside, he could see two UNIT soldiers sitting on a bench just outside the doors. Aliens and megalomaniacs he could deal with, but soldiers just rained on his parade.

The Doctor returned his attention to the false grandeur of the reception area. Big, leafy potted plants lined the walls, and various chairs and couches had been dotted around among the planters. The Doctor had taken over one of these couches, pretending to read the magazine in his hands. It was something about cars. He wasn't very interested in it.

What he was more interested in was the queue in front of the reception desk. Mainly the fact that it was long. Much longer than he had expected. Thoraln industries was a new company, at least that's what it said on the sign hanging on the wall. Founded barely three days ago, and it already had a large customer base. Still, there were a lot of strange things about this place, and taking the cake at the top of the list was its name.

Thoraln was a word the Doctor had heard before, but he didn't generally associate it with Earth. In fact, he had never associated it with Earth. But hearing it now, on Earth, meant that something was wrong, and not just here, but on other planets too. The Doctor looked up from his magazine, and saw that the queue had dissipated. A glance at the clock on the wall confirmed that it was the end of business hours for outside customers, but the Doctor leapt at his chance to have a chat with the receptionist.

Dropping the magazine on the couch, he sauntered up to the desk with a friendly smile. "Hello," he said cheerily, resting his elbows on the desk.

The receptionist looked up from her computer. "I'm sorry sir, but it's the end of business hours. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

The Doctor pulled a sad face, and discreetly retrieved his sonic screwdriver from his pocket. "Oh, but it's really important," he complained, running his screwdriver along the outside of the desk. There was a loud bang, and sparks leapt out of the receptionist's monitor. She jumped back in surprise, and the Doctor swung himself over the desk, sonic screwdriver already safely inside his pocket.

The receptionist shook her head in horror. "No! This can't happen. If my boss finds out, he'll dock my pay for breaking equipment."

The Doctor made a show of checking the computer, and smiled at the receptionist.

"Isn't it lucky for you that I was here," he said. "I can fix this computer, no problems. But first, I need you to agree to something for me."

The receptionist looked worried at first, but relaxed when the Doctor gave her a reassuring smile. "I need to get a tour of the factory."

The receptionist shook her head. "I don't think I can do that."

"Oh, come on. Just a quick one. Ten minutes. That's all I'm asking."

"Alright. Ten minutes. But that's it, okay?"

The Doctor gave her a small salute. "Affirmative." He pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his trouser pocket, and held it against the computer. The monitor sparked, then sprang to life. The Doctor winked at the receptionist, pleased with the outcome of his charade.

The receptionist took the Doctor by the arm and led him towards the door. "I really shouldn't be doing this, but I kind of owe you one."

"Don't worry," the Doctor replied with a smile. "I'm sure no one will find out. Lets just keep this between you and me."

* * *

"Who is this man?"

Inhuman figures moved around the room, each tending to their own piece of equipment. The one monitoring the surveillance repeated itself. "Who is this man?" it asked, pointing a finger at the screen it had been watching. Another one of the creatures came over to look at the screen.

"He doesn't look like he's with the police or UNIT," the second being said, closely observing the Doctor's progress across the screen. "But he may still be a threat."

"Should we have him eliminated?" the first being asked, already preparing to give the order.

The other being held up a furred hand. "Not yet. He hasn't found anything, and we don't know if he suspects us. Let him pass."

The first being gave the other figure a nod and returned to watching the images scrolling across the screens before it. It was not about to disrepute anything said by one of its superiors, but this new man troubled it. There were many organisations snooping around their factory, UNIT being the most annoying, but this new man didn't act like any of the others. They had been military, efficient and systematic in their search; this man looked as if he was just out for an afternoon stroll.

The creature shook its furred head. They had been here for a couple of Earth months, but there was still no sign of what they had been sent here to find, and all these soldiers poking around didn't help. With a sound resembling a sigh, the creature returned to its work.


	7. Detective Inspectoring

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who....but I do own a machine that makes mysterious lights appear in the sky. And before anyone asks, i was definitely NOT in London.

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CHAPTER SEVEN: DETECTIVE INSPECTORING

"I'm sorry, what was your name?"

Brittany sighed, and folded her arms. "Detective Inspector Harvey," she said, slightly annoyed with how disorganised this place was. She had been asked for her name about a zillion times already, and she'd only been talking to one person.

"Right," the officer behind the desk said, punching a few commands into his computer. "I'll just need to see some identification."

Brittany swallowed, and handed over the Doctor's psychic paper, fervently hoping it would work. The officer studied the wallet for a long time, then handed it back to her. "Everything seems to be in order," he said, shooting her a slightly flirtatious smile. "What brings you here, Detective Inspector Harvey?"

Brittany almost sighed with relief as she tucked the leather wallet away. "I need to have a look through your files on the current disappearances."

The officer shrugged, and led her out of the main foyer and into a storage room. "Sure," he said, unlocking the archives for her. "Don't know why you would want to look though. The case has been taken over by UNIT now."

"Yes, I know," Brittany said in a tone of voice that suggested that she knew that all along. "I still need to have a look, just in case any clues have been overlooked."

The officer gave her one last smile. "Be my guest," he said just before he left.

Brittany rubbed her hands together eagerly. "Okay, where to start." The archive room was lined with filing cabinets, each labelled with a letter. There was a table in the centre of the room, files strewn all over it.

"This as good a place as any," Brittany muttered, sifting through the files scattered over the table. All of the files she looked at were labelled as 'missing person', so it looked like she was on the right track. Plucking the folder from the top of the file, she started reading to herself.

"Name, Samuel Gregory. Right. Worked at SL Textiles, now Thoraln Industries. Disappeared five days ago. No clues found as to where or when. Useless." She threw the folder down, and grabbed another at random. "Okay, name, Beau Palancar. Worked as a journalist. Disappeared three days ago, no clues as to when and where." A cursory examination of a few more files revealed the same thing; no clues about how the disappearances were happening. She could see why the Doctor had wanted to check out what was going on. She was still searching through the records when the police officer came back in.

"Found anything yet?" he asked, causing Brittany to almost jump out of her skin.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Still looking, although…perhaps you could help me?"

The police officer smiled widely, thinking he was in luck. "Certainly. How can I help?"

Brittany rolled her eyes once the officer had moved past her. "Which of these is the earliest disappearance?" she asked in a professional tone that didn't betray the smirk on her face.

"This one," the officer said, handing a report to her. "My name's Andrew, by the way."

"Brittany." Andrew looked crestfallen at her harsh tone, realising that he might have made a mistake.

"Says here that the man's name was Greg Miller, and he worked for SL textiles. Disappeared seven days ago, and still no clues as to where and when. Absolutely useless." She sighed, and threw the folder back onto the pile. Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Andrew, do you happen to have a newspaper from seven days ago?"

Andrew shrugged. "Yeah. We keep records on the computers. This way." He led Brittany out of the archives room, and down a hallway. "Its odd, you turning up just now."

"Why is that?"

"Well, the previous detective who worked on this case just disappeared, and UNIT has taken over the whole investigation, and now you turn up. But who am I to complain? At least they haven't posted me in Cardiff! That place is weird."

Brittany smiled. "Yeah," she said, not really understanding what Andrew was talking about.

"Anyway, here we are. Have a good look around, see what you can find." Andrew typed a few commands on the keyboard, and the image of a newspaper came up. "Have fun. Holler if you need help." He withdrew from the room, leaving Brittany to puzzle out the keyboard.

Her computer at home had been a touch screen that could also be voice activated, with hardly any manual interaction needed. She sat herself down in an office chair, and splayed her fingers out over the keyboard like she'd seen Andrew do. Luckily, she'd visited the history museum back on Sydoriv, and they'd had all types of old computers there. One of them had been fitted with a keyboard, so at least she sort of knew what she was dealing with.

It took her a few goes to work out that the arrow keys could be used to scroll down, but once she did, she began flicking between various pages of the newspaper with ease. There didn't seem to be any mention of what she was looking for, and there wasn't even a single mention of the disappearance of Greg Miller. Brittany spent several fruitless minutes reading the newspaper, before she realised what she was doing wrong.

The police report had said that Greg Miller's disappearance hadn't been reported until late at night, so that means they couldn't have put it in the newspaper from that day. Anything she was looking for would be in the next day's paper. The only problem was, she had no idea how to find that other paper.

"Andrew!" she called, and the young officer arrived almost instantaneously. "I need the newspaper from the day after this one, but I don't know where it is."

"Here, let me show you," he said, using the mouse to open up another file. "There you go. Anything else you need?"

"No. Thanks Andrew," she said, returning to the screen. He quietly withdrew, leaving her to her search. A quick experiment with the mouse proved disastrous, and Brittany decided she would stick with the keyboard. The headline on the front page looked promising.

"Mysterious Disappearance in South London. Authorities Investigating," she read out loud. Scanning the first few paragraphs of the article didn't reveal anything she hadn't already know, so she scrolled further through the newspaper. It wasn't long before she found what she was looking for.

A small article tucked away at the bottom of one of the pages was titled 'Lights in the Sky over South London.' Brittany smiled, and read the article quietly to herself.

"Last night, bright lights were seen in the sky over Southern London. Several eyewitnesses reported that orange lights appeared in the sky, before vanishing within a blue explosion. A journalist in that area, Beau Palancar, said that the blue light fell to the ground, but this fact has not been proven. Aliens have been suspected, however, this has yet to be confirmed."

Brittany smiled. "Oh yes. That's it!" Having read enough of that article, she moved the mouse jerkily across the screen. Now, if she could just open the newspaper from the day after the journalist had disappeared, she might confirm her suspicions. She successfully opened the new file, and quickly scrolled through the pages, swiftly spotting an article titled 'Lights Appear again over London.'

"A blue light reappeared above South London last night, and reliable eyewitness reports put its point of origin above a newly established company, Thoraln Industries. It is believed that what was seen last night was the same light seen a few day ago."

Brittany flicked back to the front page, and skimmed over the main article. "Journalist Beau Palancar disappeared last night while in South London," Brittany read. "I would bet that he was at Thoraln Industries when he went missing. I've got to tell the Doctor this." She turned the computer off, and ran down the hall, dashing past a startled Andrew. She dashed out of the front door and onto the street, running along the road at full speed.


	8. Snooping

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.....but I own a banana, which I shall hold for ransom until the Doctor submits to my will!

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CHAPTER EIGHT: SNOOPING

"Found anything yet?" Jack called across the room.

Ianto shook his head. "No."

Gwen also indicated a negative. "Not a thing."

Jack sighed, and watched the video camera image again. It was from a camera mounted on the front of a fish and chip shop in South London, and was only a couple of hours old. It looked like a fairly normal street, other than the blue police box sitting on the corner. The Doctor and Brittany had both exited from the TARDIS a few minutes ago, but didn't seem as if they were in any undue hurry. So that meant that they hadn't come to Earth looking for trouble. Wasn't that how it always was? Jack looked at the picture UNIT had sent his again. There was no doubt that the woman standing with the Doctor was Brittany, but he still couldn't believe that it was her. He remembered when he last saw her, probably about a month ago now. She had turned down an offer to travel with the Doctor, saying that she wasn't ready to leave her home. Whatever had happened, she definitely looked like she travelling with the Doctor.

Jack returned his attention to the security footage just in time to see the Doctor and Brittany running down the street. He rewound the image, and watched it again. Brittany was holding one of her hands in a strange way, so Jack rewound the footage, and watched it again. He paused, and zoomed up on Brittany. She was definitely holding something. He enlarged the image further and, once he worked out what she was holding, slapped his hands down on the desk in triumph.

Ianto and Gwen both turned to Jack, surprised by his sudden movement. "Ianto, do you happen to have the newspaper from today?" the captain asked, and Ianto nodded, running off to grab it.

Gwen stood up from her chair, and walked over to Jack's screen. "What have you found?" she asked.

"Here," Jack replied, pointing at the object in Brittany's hand. "Look at this. She's holding a newspaper."

Gwen nodded. "And…?"

"Well, you don't normally sprint down a street with a newspaper still in your hand, do you?"

Before Gwen could ask what Jack meant by that fact, Ianto came back into the room, a rolled up newspaper clutched in his hand. Jack took the paper off him, and rolled it out. "I should have known," he said, pointing at the headline on the top of the page.

"Mysterious Disappearances Baffle the Authorities," Gwen read. She folded her arms. "Doesn't the Doctor normally deal with aliens? If that was caused by aliens, we would know about it."

Jack shook his head. "That case is under UNIT control."

Ianto frowned. "Since when?"

"Since last night," Jack replied, digging a mobile phone out of his pocket. "Could you excuse me? I have to make a phone call."

* * *

The Doctor had managed to 'accidentally' get himself lost in the Thoraln Industries factory, and had decided to have a look around. No doubt the receptionist who was meant to be giving him the tour was frantically searching for him. She could get into a lot of trouble if he was found, but he didn't plan on being found. He was far too good and hiding and, if worst came to worst, running.

All the workers had gone home for the day, so it was easy enough to sneak down corridors, discreetly opening doors here and there. The Doctor was in front of one such door, and a quick burst from his sonic screwdriver opened it up. He stepped out into a large, dimly lit room, the only source of light being a few small, deeply recessed windows near the ceiling. Conveyor belts twisted across the room at various heights, looking like enormous unmoving snakes in the gloom.

The Doctor rubbed his hands together. If there were mysterious people turning up inside snowglobes, then a snowglobe factory would be the place you would start searching.

Half finished snowglobes were scattered all across the conveyor belts, so the Doctor decided that there was where he would start. Ladders and catwalks provided access to the machinery, so he made his way up to the raised walkways. When he reached the top, he started off along the catwalks, trying to keep as silent as possible. While there was probably no one here, it paid to be cautious.

The catwalk he was on swung overtop of one of the larger conveyor belts, giving easy access to the snowglobes. The Doctor pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket, and winced as his arm twinged. The injuries he had received from the shade still hadn't healed yet, and he would probably have a nice scar on his shoulder to show off at the end, but right now, he wished that the pain would just go away. He flexed his shoulder, and turned his little flashlight on.

If he lay down on his stomach, he might just be able to reach the conveyor belt. Holding the flashlight between his teeth, he lay down on the catwalk, the top half of his body hanging out over the edge. The floor was very far away from up here, and the Doctor couldn't help but shudder. He wasn't scared of many things, but heights had to be one of them. He had made quite a few enemies over the years, and more than one had attempted to push him off high objects.

Trying to ignore the dangerous drop, he stretched out to grab the nearest snowglobe, but his reach fell just short. He grunted, and wriggled further out over the edge, straining his arms as he tried to reach for the snowglobe.

Something loud blared from right behind him, and he jumped, slipping over the edge of the catwalk with a yelp. He landed on the conveyor belt with a crash, knocking many of the snowglobes over the edge. The conveyor creaked alarmingly as the Doctor sat up and rubbed his head. The sound repeated itself, and the Doctor pinpointed its location.

Reaching his hand into his trouser pocket, he pulled out a phone. It rang again, so he flipped it open and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is Avon calling."

The Doctor sighed, and was tempted to hang up the phone then and there. "Jack, this really isn't a good time."

The captain laughed. "It never is, is it? What are you doing now? Chasing aliens down the streets of London?"

"Not quite." The Doctor glanced down at the floor. "I am actually balanced precariously on a conveyor belt thirty feet up in the air. Can't you call back later?"

"I just want to ask you one question."

"Can it wait? I'm really…" He trailed off as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. "I'll call you back," he whispered to Jack before he turned the phone off. He pressed himself down, hopefully out of sight, and watched a figure move slowly across the room.

Whatever it was, it wasn't human; it was too tall. However, there was not enough light to make out any other details, so the Doctor couldn't identify what it was. He had some suspicions though. Luckily, it didn't see all the smashed snowglobes all over the floor, and left through a side door. The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief, and crawled along the conveyor.

Whatever was going on here was definitely bigger than a few people going missing, and he intended to find out what it was. And he suspected that wherever that creature was going would give him the answers he needed.


	9. Unsavoury Habits

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood....and now, I don't own a banana. The Doctor thwarted me by using a daring plan which involved a rubber band, two paperclips and half a pineapple. *sigh*

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CHAPTER NINE: UNSAVOURY HABITS

Jack slipped his mobile phone back into his pocket with a frown. "No luck," he said to Gwen and Ianto, before sitting back down in front of a computer terminal. "He hung up on me."

The three sat in silence for a few minutes, broken only by the tap of fingers on keyboards, and Jack's annoyed mutterings. Finally, he came to a decision.

The captain stood up, slinging his greatcoat on over his shoulders. "I'm just going out for a coffee, okay?" he said, making his way to the door.

Ianto eyed the revolver on Jack's belt. "Right. While you're in London, could you buy me a copy of Master and Commander? I heard that there was a sale on, and have been planning to watch that movie for ages."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Sure," he replied, leaving the hub.

* * *

Muttering quietly among themselves, the aliens watched the Doctor's passage with interest. The stunt on the conveyor belt had surprised them, and they weren't willing to capture him just yet. They had been trapped on Earth for many months now, and a bit of entertainment was always a welcome diversion. This man was exciting enough that anyone who could leave their stations to watch him on the surveillance cameras did.

Shilok had been sent down to the conveyor room to investigate, but had instead lured the man deeper into the factory. The aliens were treating it as a game to alleviate the boredom of sitting on a backwater planet for half a year. The commander of the mission walked in through a set of sliding doors on the side of the room. All the aliens clustered around the surveillance screen looked at him guiltily, but he didn't mind. If they could keep themselves entertained, it would mean less work for him. Better troop morale was directly linked to a better performance; all officers learned that early on.

He was sitting at his computer terminal when a cry rose up from behind him. "What?" he growled throatily as he spun around to face the group gathered around the surveillance screen.

"He's gone sir!" one of the soldiers cried, quickly cycling through all of the possible views of the factory.

The commander walked over to the monitor. "What do you mean gone?"

"Just vanished sir," the soldier replied, worry evident in her voice. "None of the tracking systems are picking him up."

"Well, you better find him fast, or you will have to report your failure directly to the High Council," the commander snarled in a threatening tone. The female soldier cowered for a few seconds before frantically trying to find that man. If she didn't find him, there would definitely be hell to pay.

* * *

"Hello, what do we have here?" the Doctor whispered under his breath, staring up at a small nook in the wall. "A security camera. But who's watching?" He silently cursed himself for talking out loud again. That was one habit he needed to break. It wasn't as if the walls were interested in his innermost feelings. Actually, he thought to himself as he inspected the camera, perhaps they were.

The Doctor took his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, and set it to transmit a signal that would jam the cameras when he walked past them. He was trying to do a discreet investigation, and he didn't want prying eyes watching his move, whether they were benign or not. Most of the time, they turned out to be the latter anyway, so it didn't really matter that he was blocking the signals.

With a shake of his head, the Doctor set off down the dusty corridor. He had been going off on a wide tangent there which really didn't help him with his current investigations. So, what did he know about the disappearances?

It was something to do with the snowglobes, that much he was sure of. The rest of the facts he'd uncovered, well, they didn't make sense at all. First of all was Thoraln Industries. How had it gained so much power over such a short period of time? And who had chosen the company name? And what was UNIT's interest in all this? All of those questions remained unanswered in his mind, but he knew he would find out sooner or later. Probably at a really inconvenient time.

The Doctor was so deep in thought that he almost walked into the shiny metal door at the end of the passage. It took the Time Lord a moment to register that it was even there, but once he did, he felt that some of his questions were starting to make sense.

The grimy concrete walls of the passage looked out of place next to the metal door, as if they were the things of foreign design. The door itself looked like a submarine hatch, with a large wheel welded to the centre of the metal.

"Snazzy," the Doctor muttered to himself, running his finger along the surface of the door. It was almost frictionless, and silky smooth. "But what's it made of?"

He lent closer to the door, and gave it a quick lick. He savoured the taste for a moment, before gave it another short lick. "Titalium Carbide," he whispered to himself. "Thoraln and Titalium Carbide? Looks like I've found more questions than I answered." As usual, he added inside his head. "No way to go but forward."

He gripped the wheel with both hands, and spun it around with a flourish. It spun easily beneath his fingers, and the door swung inwards with the hiss of escaping gas. As he stepped through the doorway, white strip lights running along the ceiling flickered into life, revealing a corridor made of the same silvery metal as the door. The floor was a metal grille, covering up the various electronics that ran the length of the passageway.

Just as the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, the door behind him swung shut. There didn't seem to be any way to open it from this side, which was a bit stupid in his opinion. What if you needed to go to the bathroom or something? Although, a ship this nice would probably have its own plumbing.

The Time Lord shrugged. Now there was definitely no way to go but forward.


	10. Sneaking In

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.

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CHAPTER TEN: SNEAKING IN

When Brittany finally arrived out the front of Thoraln Industries, she was panting heavily. It felt like she'd run around half of the city just to get here. And the people who had given her directions had been useless. In the end, she'd found her way back to Trevor's little shop, and he'd kindly drawn her a map. She had to find the Doctor, and tell him about her discoveries.

Brittany slowed down to think about what she was going to do. It was then that she realised that the Doctor probably already knew that it was aliens kidnapping all those people. "I'm such a fool," she muttered, kicking the bench next to her. "Of course he already knows." Still, where else was she going to go?

The front doors to Thoraln Industries were unlocked, which was a big surprise to Brittany. Who left their doors open after closing hours? She wasn't about to argue with her good fortune, so she quietly slipped inside. All the lights in the entrance foyer were still on, illuminating the various potted plants and couches dotted around the room. A receptionist's desk sat unattended against one of the walls, and Brittany decided to have a look at that first.

It was a simple, wooden desk, with a single computer nestled under the top bench. Brittany wandered around the desk, and quietly turned the computer on. It started up with a beep that echoed loudly around the silent room, and Brittany glanced around guiltily, expecting security guards to leap on her at any moment. When they didn't, she breathed a sigh of relief, and returned her attention to the computer screen, which was now prompting her to enter her username and password.

She bit her lip, and tapped out a couple of different words off the top of her head, but the computer refused to let her into the system. She sat down in the chair behind the desk, and thought hard about what she should do next. The Doctor had to be in the building somewhere, but she had no idea of exactly where he would be. This factory was very big, and the Doctor was only a skinny alien, with a very good knack for running. It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. A very fast needle, in a dark, gloomy haystack.

That was when she saw it. A small piece of white paper was taped to the underside of the desk, a dog-eared corner just visible. Brittany pulled it out from under the desk, and read the words on it in triumph. Obviously someone was worried that they would forget their username and password, and had very conveniently taped it somewhere hidden, but in plain sight. She grinned, and entered the combination into the login screen on the computer.

* * *

Across the road from the Thoraln Industries factory, a abandoned apartment block played host to a ten-man squadron of UNIT soldiers, who were paying close attention to Brittany's arrival at the snowglobe factory. When she first appeared outside the factory, one of the soldiers suggested that she was just passing by. Once she went inside, however, they suddenly became interested in who she was. One of the soldiers, a man named Joel, was sitting at one of the apartment's small windows with a pair of night-vision goggles, carefully watching the front doors. He could just make out Brittany through the glass of the front doors, but couldn't quite see what she was doing.

Theirs wasn't the only squadron stationed near the factory; there were a total of five teams, all waiting in various buildings around Thoraln Industries. All it would take was one direction from the Brigadier, and they would move to take the factory. But the order hadn't come yet, and Joel didn't know why. He was cold and miserable, having been forced to sit in this cramped apartment for the past hour without any contact from any of the other teams. Even the rest of his own squadron was ignoring him, setting him as a sentry without even telling him when they were going to relive him.

"Hey Joel!"

Joel turned away from the window. "What?"

One of the other members of his squad stuck his head into the room. "Come look at this."

Without a moment's thought, the sentry discarded his goggles, and hurried to see what was happening in the other room. The other nine soldiers in his team were crowded around their radio set, listening to a broadcast from headquarters. Joel started to ask what was going on, but everyone else silenced him.

"This is a matter of utmost importance," the voice coming through the radio was saying. "All squads must move to stage one of the takeover, and await further orders. A warning goes out to all squads. Torchwood may be trying to interfere with UNIT's operation, and they must not be allowed to stop it. Transmission terminated."

The soldiers looked at each other with excitement.

"Torchwood!" one exclaimed, hurriedly packing his equipment into a bag. "Do you think we'll get to see them?"

Another soldier shook his head. "Nah, probably not. Still, we may be lucky."

Joel tried to butt into the conversation. "Umm, guys, there's something important you should know."

The soldier who had first mentioned Torchwood waved off his comment. "Not now Joel. We've got orders to follow out. Come on."

The soldiers filed out of the apartment, ignoring Joel's pleas to be heard. Joel kicked the wall in frustration as he gathered up his gear and followed the rest of his squad outside. He had tried to tell them about the woman he had seen enter the Thoraln Industries factory, but they hadn't listened. It just felt wrong to be going through with a military operation while there were civilians in the way. Still, he was trained to follow orders, and he wasn't about to stop now.

* * *

Brittany switched the computer off. Well, that had been a royal waste of time. She had found floor plans and schematics for the factory, but she had no idea what she was looking for, so that had been useless. The receptionist's computer didn't have access to the security cameras for Thoraln Industries, so she hadn't been able to find out where the Doctor had gone.

The only thing she could do was physically search the factory. While it wasn't high on her list of things to do, he could be in danger, and she was the only one who was able to help him. She bit her lip, and walked through a side door.


	11. The Thoraln

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who....but I wished I owned a machine that turned people into snowglobes. Wouldn't that be fun?

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE THORALN

Trying to keep quiet on the metal floor of the spaceship hadn't really worked, so the Doctor had given up on that and was instead whistling a merry tune. His sonic screwdriver seemed to be working well to keep him hidden, as no one had come to apprehend him yet. A quick glance through each side door had revealed many interesting rooms, but he hadn't found what he was looking for.

He opened the next door along the corridor, and upon seeing what was in there, slipped inside. The floor in this room was the same metal grating as the corridor, but all the wires and piping under it led in one direction. And what they led to was intriguing. The Doctor tucked his screwdriver back inside his pocket, and perched his glasses on his nose for a closer look.

Against the wall was a set of intricate machinery, with silvery metal pipes snaking around in convoluted patterns. Various dials and levers littered the surface of the device, and the Doctor just itched to play around with them. He suppressed that impulse, and instead ran his hands over the surface of the pod nestled in the centre of the machinery.

It was easily large enough for a man to stand inside, but it would be a bit of a tight fit as it only looked to be about half a metre deep. Only one side was accessible through the wires and pipes that covered nearly every surface of the room, and that side was made completely of glass. It was slightly curved, and one of the switches in this room would probably cause it to slide upwards to open the pod, but the Doctor had no idea which one.

There was a round depression on top of a chunky metal console next to the pod, and the shape looked familiar to the Doctor. He ran his fingers around the edges of the recess, then pulled the snowglobe he'd taken from the shop out of his pocket. It was a perfect fit. Returning the snowglobe back to his pocket, he searched for any hint at how this machine worked.

If it could trap living people inside snowglobes, then it must be able to turn them back again. The sheer amount of buttons rivalled the amount on the TARDIS console, and the Doctor had no idea where to start. If only someone had left an instruction manual lying around handily. Why was it never that easy?

Closing his eyes, the Doctor picked a button at random. His fingers closed around a short, metal lever, and he pushed it down. Expecting an enormous explosion, he tentatively opened first one and, and then the other.

Lights were coming on all over the room as power began to hum through the machine. That lever must have been the 'on' switch. Pleased with his choice, the Doctor began to experiment by pressing other buttons, and fiddling with controls that spun and twirled easily beneath his fingers.

The Doctor jumped as the glass cover to the pod slid open after his wild button pressing. He was about to go over and inspect the interior of the pod when he heard the door to the corridor begin to open. He silently dove behind the console he was working at, nestling himself in a mess of wiring, holding his breath for fear of giving his position away.

The door closed with a quiet hiss, and something moved towards the machinery. The footsteps definitely weren't human; they were far too loud. The footsteps grew louder, and two feet came into his field of vision. Whatever creature was walking through the room was bipedal, with black cloven hooves for feet. What was visible of the legs was covered in smooth brown fur. The creature moved past his hiding space, and the Doctor almost breathed a sigh of relief.

It was then that something gripped the collar of his suit and dragged him out of hiding. He smiled sheepishly at the alien that had him by the scruff of his neck. It was tall, standing at about seven foot high, and was covered from head to foot in smooth brown fur. It looked like a cross between a dog and a stag, with canine facial features, but the feet of a deer and a pair of stag-like horns curving off the back of it's head. A wolf's tail swung slowly back and forth behind heavily muscled legs, while long, pointed ears stuck out of a thick mane. The alien growled, showing pearly white pointed teeth.

"Thoraln," the Doctor breathed, startled by the creature standing before him. "But...how?"

The Thoraln dropped the Doctor on the floor, but the spear in the alien's hands quelled any thought of escape. The Doctor remained seated on the ground, waiting for his question to be answered. When the alien didn't speak, the Doctor decided to work it out for himself.

"What are the Thoraln doing on Earth, hmm?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet. "This shouldn't even be possible, and yet here you are."

The Thoraln watched him warily. "How do you know of us, human? Are you with the UNIT alien hunters?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I'm not with UNIT. I'm working freelance."

The alien stared at him with its piercing green eyes. "And how do you know the language of the Thoraln."

There was a long silence as the Doctor thought hard about his answer. Eventually he said, "I'm a very good freelancer. Anyway, what are the Thoraln doing here? You lot don't even have space travel!"

When no answer was forthcoming, the Doctor realised he wasn't asking the right questions. He racked his brain for any possible reason why Thoraln might be on Earth. "This is pretty fancy stuff," he said, rapping a hand on the complex piece of machinery next to him. "Titalium Carbide, I'd expect. Where'd it come from, hmm? It's definitely not of Thoraln construction. Your usual transport is far more elegant than this."

The Doctor caught what might have been a smile from the alien, and decided that he was striking the right chord. Thoraln were a prideful race, and if he could use that weakness, he might be able to get off the spaceship without being skewered like a kebab. Not that pride was a bad weakness; he suffered from it occasionally himself.

He started to wander around the room, and the Thoraln made no move to stop him. "Wherever this design came from, it's nicely made, I'll give you that," the Doctor continued, running his hands over the switches on one of the consoles. "But if you can make something this complex, why use it to turn innocent people into novelty ornaments?"

The Thoraln continued to smile at him, and the Doctor felt that he was missing something vital here. "Anyway, Earth's a long way to come if you just wanted snowglobes. There are a thousand other places that are easier to get to. Why come here?"

The Doctor snapped his fingers. "Of course!" he exclaimed, jumping on the spot. "You're not here to make snowglobes! That's just a cover-up in case anyone finds your spaceship. If someone accidentally stumbles across the spaceship, just zap them inside a snowglobe and everyone will be none the wiser. You're here for something far different, aren't you?"

He closed the distance between him and the Thoraln until there was barely a hand's width of space between them. The Doctor gave it a fierce glare, although he had to crane his neck to achieve that. "How long have you been here? Two months, three? What for? Why are you sitting here doing nothing, when you could be outside completing your task like a true Thoraln warrior? Why!"

The Thoraln leant closer to the Time Lord, until their noses were almost touching. "What we are looking for will come to us eventually, and we will be ready when it does, little human."

The Doctor frowned. "You don't know what you've just gotten yourself into, puppy dog."

The Thoraln bared its teeth at the insult. "Believe me, little human, I know exactly what I am doing. The Earth is the perfect trap, humans the perfect bait. Our target will arrive, intent on saving his precious humans. We will be waiting."

The Doctor took a step back at the comment. It was him. They were looking for him.


	12. A Slight Modification

**A/N: Hope you're all enjoying. I've been neglecting for a while, as I had to sit down and watch all of the first series of Doctor Who over the weekwnd. What better thing to do during Easter? Apart from eating chocolate?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.....but my universal domination plans are going well, thanks for asking.**

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**CHAPTER TWELVE: A SLIGHT MODIFICATION**

The Thoraln advanced after what it believed to be a retreating human. "Come back, little human. It won't hurt, I promise."

The Doctor ducked around behind the machinery, weaving between low-hanging piping. "Why should I? What you are doing is wrong, and you know it!"

There was a pause as the Thoraln stopped to ponder this. The Doctor took the silence as an opportunity to make a dash for the door. He sprinted across the room, feet pounding on the metal floor. He could hear the Thoraln giving chase; it's hooves clopping loudly on the hard floor. It was catching up, but the Doctor had a head start. He was almost at the door when something caught on the tail of his coat, flipping him backwards onto the floor.

The Thoraln strode up to him, dislodging its spear from the Time Lord's coat. It grabbed him by the collar of his suit again, and began to drag him across the floor, back towards the machinery.

"Let me go! You can't do this! It's inhumane!" the Doctor roared, struggling futilely against the Thoraln's iron grip. "I won't stand for this! When the High Council hear of this…"

The Thoraln paused, and turned to the Doctor. "The High Council sanctioned this mission. And believe me, they dislike meddling humans." It returned to dragging him across the floor, directly towards the pod nestled amongst the machinery.

"No! No! Let me go this instant! When I tell the Shadow Proclamation about this, I'll be sure to make it comes down on your head."

"I do not care about these Shadows that you talk of," the Thoraln growled throatily, dragging the Doctor to his feet and gripping him by the lapels of his suit.

The Doctor started to roar as many threats as he could think of in all the different languages he had ever heard.

* * *

Brittany pressed her back against the cool metal wall of the corridor. She had found the door to the spaceship wide open, but as soon as she had come inside, it had closed behind her. And now, she could hear shouting from up ahead. She had no desire to meet whatever was making all that noise, but she had no choice but to continue on.

She walked quietly up the corridor, back still pressed up against the wall. There was another shout, and Brittany worked out that it was coming from behind a door a few paces up the passage. She silently padded up to the door, and pressed her ear against it.

A third shout rang out, and Brittany took a step back. Although she couldn't make out any words, the voice sounded remarkably like the Doctor's. She took a deep breath, and placed her hand on the doorhandle.

* * *

"You'll regret this," the Doctor shouted, struggling with all his might as the Thoraln tried to force him into the pod. He spread his arms out wide, making sure it would be extremely difficult to get him in there. The Thoraln grunted, and pushed harder, lifting the Doctor's feet off the floor, and throwing him into the pod.

The glass cover slid shut with a pneumatic hiss before the Doctor could react, trapping the Time Lord in there. He beat his fists ineffectively against the glass, shouting at the alien, but either it was ignoring him, or the pod was soundproof. He shifted his body around, so he was leaning against the glass. From here, he could see what the Thoraln was doing.

He watched it with a morbid curiosity as it flicked switches and pulled levers. It moved on to another console, and repeated the process again. The whole system was very complex, and would take forever to learn how to use it properly. Who was he to talk? Just look at the TARDIS.

A light flicked on above his head, and he squirmed around so he could see the ceiling of the pod. There was some kind of exposed machinery above him, which was starting to power up. A vent opened, and there was a hiss as some kind of gas was released.

"Oh no you don't," the Doctor breathed, pulling his screwdriver out of his pocket. He aimed it at the ceiling with difficulty, and pressed the button. Sparks jumped down from the ceiling, singing his arms, but he kept working anyway. The invisible gas continued to hiss out of the vent in the ceiling, and the Doctor was beginning to feel light-headed.

He changed the setting on the sonic screwdriver. "Time for a slight modification." The screwdriver buzzed loudly in his hand, and another flash of sparks danced across the machinery that made up the ceiling of the pod. The Doctor closed one of his eyes against the burning rain of electricity, but kept his finger on the sonic screwdriver's button. There was a loud bang, and something heavy fell on his foot, and that was all he could remember before the invisible gas did its job.

The sonic screwdriver fell from the Doctor's limp fingers, and he slumped against the wall of the pod, drifting out of consciousness.


	13. Novelty

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.....quasi-secret alien hunters aren't made to be owned.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: NOVELTY

The Doctor groaned as he opened his eyes. The last thing he could remember was being inside the 'snowglobe machine' as he had now dubbed the pod. He rolled over onto his stomach, coughing out a mixture of air and fluffy white paper. The ground came into focus, and he immediately leapt to his feet. It looked like snow, but it definitely tasted like paper. He spat a few more pieces out as he brushed off his clothing. He spotted his sonic screwdriver lying abandoned in a drift of paper snow, so he retrieved it and put it back in his pocket. He went to take a step, and ran into an invisible wall.

The impact sent him reeling backwards into the fake snow. He tripped over something hard, and landed deep in a drift of paper snow. He came up spitting out more pieces of paper, and quickly spotted what he had tripped over. It was a large plastic sign that said 'Seasons Greetings' in bright, cheerful letters. The Doctor kicked it over in frustration. So he was inside a snowglobe. Wasn't that just brilliant.

"Not so powerful now are we, little human?"

The Doctor looked up at the giant Thoraln face looking down at him. "Oh, you're up a creek without a paddle now. And stop calling me little human. Can't you see what's right in front of your fat face?"

The Thoraln looked surprised at the Doctor's outburst, and leaned closer to the snowglobe. "How did you do that?"

The Doctor waved the sonic screwdriver at the Thoraln. "It's a little something called Time Lord ingenuity. Oh, did I forget to tell you? I'm a Time Lord, and my name's the Doctor. Didn't see that coming, did ya!"

The Thoraln made a noise that sounded somewhere between a yelp and a squeak. "You can't be! You look-"

"Human?" the Doctor supplied. "Others have made that mistake. Don't feel bad about it. Now, as I see it, you have two choices. You can let me out of here, and we'll talk about this like civilised beings, or you can leave me in here, and this place will fall down around your ears. So, what's it going to be?"

"I'm sorry Doctor, but I'm going to have to take a chance, and choose option two," the Thoraln growled, reaching out to grab the snowglobe. Before it could, there was a dull thump, and its eyes crossed, which would have seemed comical under different circumstances. It crumpled to the floor, and Brittany threw aside the metal pipe in her hands. There was a clang as it rolled across the floor, and the Doctor winced at the noise.

Brittany ran over to him, and picked up his snowglobe in both hands. "Oh," was all she said.

The Doctor folded his arms across his chest. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Umm…"

"So you know two words now. Well done." The Doctor clapped, a mocking grin on his face.

Brittany frowned at him. "There was no reason to be rude."

"Oh, I'm being rude now am I? Really, I hadn't noticed. Now, can you get me out of this thing before our furry friends come to find out what was making all that noise? Was it really so hard to put your pipe down without drawing attention to ourselves?"

"Obviously not, O master of subtleness."

The Doctor sighed, and sat down in the paper snow. "Alright. Could you help me get out of here, please?"

"Much better." Brittany placed the snowglobe back into the circular indent, and scanned her eyes across the controls. "So, what do I do?"

"I'm not exactly sure."

"What do you mean you're not exactly sure?"

The Doctor held up his hand. "Please, let me think." Brittany took a step back, away from the controls and watched the Time Lord with mild disdain.

He began to pace around inside the cramped snowglobe. "Okay, this technology is way beyond what the Thoraln are capable of, which probably means that someone gave it to them. However, the Thoraln, for all their warlike customs, are essentially a peaceful race, and it would be impossible to convince them to hurt others. So that means…anyone?"

Brittany shrugged.

"Mind control!" he exclaimed. "Isn't it obvious? All this strange technology, which hasn't even begun to exist in this galactic vector, and the complex schemes point towards that conclusion."

"You worked all of that out just then?" Brittany asked, leaning closer to the snowglobe.

The Doctor waved a hand dismissively. "Nah," he said. "I saw the mind control transmitter on the way in. I didn't actually make the connection until I looked into that Thoraln's eyes." He gestured at the alien that was out cold on the floor. "Extreme dilation of the pupils. Tell-tale sign of mind-control."

"That's all well and good Doctor, but it doesn't help me get you out of there," Brittany pointed out.

"I was getting to that," the Doctor retorted. "You'll have to reverse the effects. Hit the 'on' switch. It's a small silver lever with red writing next to it."

While Brittany searched for the lever, the Doctor sat silently in his snowglobe. While the Thoraln must have some kind of knowledge of Earth customs to have created snowglobes, luckily they were ignorant of the fact that they were filled with liquid. If the snowglobe had been filled with water rather than air, he could have been in deep trouble. But then again, the air inside the snowglobe was getting a little thin.

"Brittany, have you found that lever yet?" he asked, starting to get short of breath.

"Yep!" she called out, pushing the lever down until it was flush with the console. Lights began to come on across the room again. "What do I do next?"

The Doctor pointed at another console. "Blue button, third row down, fifth from the left."

Brittany pointed. "This one?"

"Yes. Press it, then turn the yellow knob next to it. Good. You see all those little black switches over there?" the Doctor continued, pointing across the room. "Turn them all to 'off', then find the biggest lever you can find, and pull it."

Brittany nodded, and followed his instructions. As she started to flick the row of black switches, the Doctor became aware of a buzzing, that wasn't really a noise, but a vibration coursing through his body. It was a truly alien feeling that he had never encountered before, and considering the amount of places he had been, that was saying something.

Brittany was reaching for the lever, but the Doctor shouted for her to stop. "No!" he called. "Not yet." Instead, he pointed at something next to the lever. "See that really big red button?"

She looked at it, then back at him. "Yes."

"Press it."

She looked at the Time Lord, trapped in his small glass globe, with doubt in her eyes. Turning back to the button, she jammed her finger right into the centre.

The Doctor's world turned blindingly bright and white noise blasted his ears. Then, everything fell silent.


	14. Saving the Day

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood...AND Torchwood blew up my super-secret underground lair of doom. I don't even own that anymore.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SAVING THE DAY

Sound rushed back into the world, and the Doctor found himself in an awkward position. He was back inside the pod, but he wasn't alone. Taking a deep breath, the Time Lord slowly opened his eyes. All he could see was an ear, so he pulled his head back as far as he could without hurting himself. There was another man in the pod with him, and it was a perfect match with the man that had been in the snowglobe he had taken from Trevor's shop, right down to the black gumboots.

The Doctor smiled. "Umm, hello?"

The other man shifted to try and look at him, but only managed to get his foot jammed behind the Doctor's knee, so he gave up on that idea. "Hi."

"I'm the Doctor by the way. What's your name?"

"Chris."

"Nice to meet you Chris. Now, this may seem a bit strange, but could you just shift your bum to the side a little bit?"

Chris complied, and the Doctor felt the circulation return to his fingers. "Oh, that's so much better. Thanks."

Brittany appeared in front of the pod. "Doctor, are you okay?"

"Feeling just dandy right now. You?"

Brittany smiled. "Actually, I'm rather hungry."

The Doctor smiled back. "I promise I'll buy you a giant hamburger if you let us out of here."

"Sounds like a deal to me. How do I do that?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. "Find a purple button. It should say 'open' on it."

Brittany frowned, and turned to the console nearest to her. Right in the centre was a large purple button with the word 'open' in yellow block letters. With a small shrug, she pushed it.

The glass door to the pod slid upwards into the ceiling, releasing its two rather cramped occupants. Chris' cheeks were red, and he looked very embarrassed, but the Doctor didn't seem worried at all.

"Right. I suppose I better get you that hamburger," he said, drawing a greasy paper package out of his suit pocket. "There you go."

Brittany took it, and gave it a worried sniff. Whatever it was, it smelt wonderfully greasy. She smiled, and put it in her pocket for later.

The Doctor looked a bit crestfallen. "Don't you want it?"

"There's a time and a place Doctor. Right now, I think we probably have bigger problems than hunger." Brittany raised a finger and pointed at the ceiling.

The Doctor looked up. A small black camera swivelled around to look directly at him. "Ah."

* * *

Andrew had returned to sitting in the foyer of the police station after Brittany had left. He had a report in one hand, which he was having a casual read through, and in his other hand, he was fiddling with a snowglobe that one of his friends had bought him. Only the lamp on the desk next to him was on, and even that was dim, so it took him completely by surprise when bright, white light filled the room. It lasted for several seconds, and once it died away and his vision cleared, Andrew found that his snowglobe was empty, and that a pretty young lady was sitting on his lap.

"Where am I?" she asked, disorientated.

Andrew ignored her question. "I'm Andrew. What's your name?"

"Melissa," she replied, glancing around the room. "What happened?"

Andrew smiled at her. Maybe today was his lucky day.

* * *

Trevor had just been preparing to go home for the day, when he heard the sound of glass shattering from the main room of the shop. He dropped the boxes he was carrying, and ran through the door connecting the storage room to the main shop. Just as he reached the front of his shop, the white light that was bathing the whole room died away, revealing four people sitting among the broken shards of the snowglobe display.

"Excuse me," one of them said. "Could you tell us what happened?"

Trevor just stared at them slack-jawed. "What the hell?"

* * *

Chris stood with his shoulder against the door, while the Doctor worked on the snowglobe machine with his sonic screwdriver.

"Can never resist pressing a big red button," he was saying as he ran his screwdriver along the length of a metal pipe. "I have absolutely no idea what it did, but I don't think it destroyed the universe. That's one good thing that has happened today. That, and the chips we had for lunch. They were good chips."

Brittany watched the Time Lord as he unplugged wires and threw them all over the floor. "What exactly are you doing?"

"If we want to get out of here without any of the Thoraln thinking we would look better with a spear through our stomach, we need something to bargain with. So, I'm going to tell them I'll blow up the ship unless they let us go."

"And you can do that from here?"

"Oh yes," the Doctor said with a grin. "It takes a hell of a lot of power to run this machine, and if I just invert the current by ionising the microparticle cables, the power should feed back into the power core."

"Which means…"

"A big explosion. And when I say big, I don't mean big. I mean absolutely massive. Could take out a whole city block. The Thoraln wouldn't want me to ruin the nice little scheme they've got going here. Too much is at stake."

Brittany looked doubtful. "You think that will work?"

Before the Doctor could answer, Chris was thrown across the room as Thoraln surged in through the door. Brittany helped Chris to his feet while the Doctor placed one of his hands on a large, dangerous looking switch.

One of the Thoraln stepped forward, some kind of alien gun held in its hands. "Give up now Doctor. You have now way of escaping us."

The Doctor laughed. "You think I would give up that easily? Well you're wrong, my friend. See this button here?" He nodded towards his hand. "I push this, and this spaceship gets blown sky high."

"You're bluffing," the lead Thoraln said.

"Are you willing to risk it?" the Doctor asked, getting ready to push the switch. "Because don't think that I wouldn't do it."

"Do it then."

The Doctor locked the lead Thoraln with a fierce gaze. "You'll get roasted."

"Do it."

The Doctor bit his lip. "I must have the worst poker face in the galaxy," he muttered, stepping away from the console. With a sigh, he tucked his hands into his pockets. "Still, it was worth a try."

"You mean that switch won't blow this place up?"

The Doctor looked at Brittany in surprise. "Are you really that thick? Of course it won't. There are all kinds of safeties and things that I would have to bypass. What do you take me for, some kind of computer geek? Blimey."

"What does it do then?" Brittany asked, watching as the Thoraln fanned out and began to advance towards them.

The Doctor waited for a few seconds before answering her with three words. "Cover your ears."

It was her turn to look at the Time Lord in surprise, but she jammed her fingers into her ears anyway. She motioned for Chris to do the same. The Doctor smiled at her, before flicking the switch. A piecing wail broke out across the room, driving all of the aliens to their knees. The noise was almost unbearable to the two humans, even though the fingers in their ears were blocking a lot of the sound.

The Doctor grabbed both Brittany and Chris by the hand, and shouted a word at them. Even though she couldn't hear what he was saying, Brittany knew what that word was.

"Run!"


	15. Nobody Dies

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood.....but I have a nice world domination arrangement with the grass in my backyard.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: NOBODY DIES

The noise had given The Doctor, Brittany and Chris a head start, but it wouldn't last long. The Doctor led the way down the corridor, and the others had to sprint at full speed to keep up with his long stride. "Doctor, what did you do?" Brittany panted.

"Just set off an alarm," the Time Lord replied, breath coming in ragged gasps.

"An alarm?"

The Doctor glanced at her over his shoulder. "A very loud alarm." He grinned. "Okay, I may have altered it a bit, but it's still an alarm." He suddenly grabbed his two human companions by their arms and dragged them off to the side. "In here!" he shouted, opening a door.

Brittany ran in without a moment's thought, dragging a hapless Chris along with her. The Doctor entered last, quietly closing the door. A short burst from his sonic screwdriver locked it, keeping out unwanted intrusions.

"There we go. All safe now," he said with a smile. "Should be able to hide here for a while."

Brittany sat down on the floor. "That's good, because I'm sick of running."

The Doctor looked hurt. "Already? I might as well takes you home right now. It's not fun if you don't do the running."

"Right. So it isn't fun just to visit a nice safe planet with flowers and cute furry animals, is it? I thought there would be less slavering monsters and more exotic planets when I signed up with you."

"Slavering monsters?" The Doctor frowned. "I don't recall anything ever dribbling on you."

Brittany prodded him in the leg. "You know what I mean. On the day we first met we were almost killed by a bunch of evil shadowy monster things…"

"But we survived," the Doctor pointed out.

"…And then there was yesterday, with that voidic shade. We almost died, again."

"But we survived."

"Now, we're being chased around a spaceship by a horde of snowglobe-crazy wolf-stag aliens that want to turn us into kebabs!"

"You can't really call the Thoraln slavering aliens…"

Chris frowned at both of them. "What are you on about?" he asked. "What's all this talk of aliens?"

Both the Doctor and Brittany looked guilty, but before they could be questioned further, something started banging on the door.

"I had hoped it would take longer for them to find us," he said, running to the centre of the room.

"Famous last words," Brittany muttered under her breath as she and Chris followed the Time Lord.

In the middle of the room was a complex looking piece of machinery that, to Brittany's untrained eye, looked almost exactly alike to the snowglobe machine. The Doctor was attacking it with his sonic screwdriver, pulling various bits out and plugging them in elsewhere with no apparent pattern.

Whatever was banging on the door had found some friends with some kind of laser cutting device. "Doctor, they're breaking through," Brittany warned, and the Time Lord grunted in reply.

More cabling flew over his shoulders in a desperate attempt to finish his work before the Thoraln broke through the door. He gave the machine one more burst from his sonic screwdriver just as the door caved in under the attack of the Thoraln.

"I hope you have insurance, because that's going to be costly to fix," the Doctor said cheerily as several Thoraln charged into the room. He waited until the last second to dodge the spears that were coming towards him.

"Now, that's no way to treat your guests," he complained, dancing out of reach of the aliens. "I was having such a nice time too."

Brittany and Chris had been too slow to avoid the clutches of the Thoraln, and were being restrained by two of the tall, muscly aliens. The Doctor winked at them as he skipped past, still taunting the aliens that were following him.

"There's one thing I still don't understand," he continued, still back-pedalling across the room. "You're putting people in stasis inside snowglobes, fair enough. You're trying to capture me, that's alright too. The only problem is, what were you going to do with the people trapped in snowglobes once you'd captured me? Leave them there forever? That doesn't see like a good plan to me. Now, answer me this. Who put you up to this? And don't tell me the High Council, because I know it wasn't them."

Every Thoraln in the room stopped, allowing the Doctor time to catch his breath. "Well?" he asked. "Who was it?"

One of the Thoraln took a step forward. "The golden one."

"The what?"

The Thoraln repeated itself. "The golden one."

The Doctor frowned and tucked his hands in his pockets. "Who's the golden one, hmmm? Did this 'golden one' make this?" He rapped his hand on the machine next to him. "Bad Christmas present, whoever it's from." He started to circle around the big machine. "A mind control transmitter. A work of art, this is."

He stopped in front a large gilded lever. "If the golden one happens to overhear this conversation," he said, setting his hand on the lever, "I want them to know that I will find them. There is no place in creation where I can't find you." He smiled widely at nothing in particular, and slammed the lever down.

For several long, silent seconds, nothing seemed to happen. Then, without warning, all the Thoraln threw down their weapons and released their prisoners. The Doctor smiled, and gave Brittany another wink.

"What did you do?" she whispered.

"Turned the mind control transmitter off," he replied. "They're free now. Free to go home to their families."

The lead Thoraln walked up to the pair, and laid its hands on the Doctor's shoulders. "I thank you, Doctor. You have shown us far greater mercy than we deserve. We are sorry for what we did."

The Doctor brushed the Thoraln's hands off. "Don't apologise. It wasn't your fault. Have a good trip home, and say hello to the pups for me."

The Thoraln inclined its head. "I will do just that. Maybe we shall meet again someday?"

"I hope so. And just as a hint, get rid of the snowglobe thing. It really ruins the spaceship," he said as he and Brittany walked out the door.

Brittany stopped the Doctor, and looked back. "Where's Chris?"

The Doctor shrugged. "He must of run off. Some people just can't handle it."

"And some people can," Brittany replied.

The Doctor smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah," he murmured sadly. Then he perked up. "There is one more thing we have to clear up before we leave."

"And what is that?"

The Doctor thought hard for a moment. "Actually, make that two things. I'm going to have a shout at UNIT, and then I'm going to buy some new shoes."


	16. A Peaceful Solution

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood....I am far too insane for that. Haven't you noticed?

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN: A PEACEFUL SOLUTION

Joel was sitting with his gun across his lap when the Doctor barged into his squad's meeting point.

"I want to speak to the Brigadier," the Time Lord demanded, jabbing a finger into the lookout's chest. Joel pulled his radio out, and handed it to the apparently furious alien.

The Doctor glared at him, and lifted the hand-held radio to his mouth.

"Brigadier, this is the Doctor," he said. "I want your men to stand down, the situation is taken care of. No. You don't need to search the building. Really, it's finished. The aliens are leaving. Yes. Have a nice day." He turned the radio off, and handed it back to Joel.

"Thanks," he said happily, a big grin spreading across his face. He left before Joel could say a word.

* * *

A few hours later, Brittany and the Doctor were walking back to the TARDIS after a bout of shoe shopping. The Doctor had two boxes tucked under his arm, while Brittany was carrying some shopping bags filled with groceries.

"Why does no one have the red sneakers," the Doctor was saying. "They should have the red sneakers."

Brittany laughed. "You found some in the end, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then what are you complaining about? The supermarket didn't have any marmalade. That was more of a problem than your shoes."

The Doctor smiled at that, and dug the TARDIS key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. Brittany went in first, following his shouted instructions on how to find the kitchen. The Doctor started to follow, and was halfway inside when he heard a shout that stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Doctor!"

The Time Lord heard the American accent, and turned to see Jack Harkness striding across the road towards him.

"Ah, Jack! Fancy seeing you here," the Doctor exclaimed as he walked inside his ship and slammed the door shut. The engines started to groan, and the ship dematerialised, leaving Jack standing by himself in the middle of a London street.

"Thanks Doctor," Jack muttered as he walked back towards the Torchwood SUV.

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**A/N: And Snowglobe is finished. Hope you all enjoyed, the next story will be up in the next coupl of days...or not.**


	17. Next Time

**NEXT TIME…**

A great entity, spanning across a thousand timelines, and mentioned in the cultures of a thousand worlds, had its attention focused on the Earth. However, it was different from many of the other aliens that had set their attentions on that particular planet, for it was neither interested in the planet itself, nor the humans that inhabited it. It was after only one thing, the one reason why humans had survived so long, the one being that had saved the Earth, and indeed the universe, time and time again.

It was after a Time Lord, and no power in the whole of creation was going to stop it.

* * *

Jack roused himself when he noticed that he was beginning to doze off. "Damned Cardiff," he muttered, irritated by the lack of sleep and the lack of leads on his current project. He pulled at the leather band around his wrist to ease an itch, but paused and looked down when the itch grew into a tingle, and then to a burn. He shook his head. Either his eyes were playing tricks on him, or the leather wristband was glowing a faint yellow-orange colour.

When Ianto walked ten seconds later, Jack had disappeared.

* * *

Sandra spotted the three figures almost too late, and slammed on the brakes, her car fishtailing wildly on the wet surface of the road.

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"Jack!" the Doctor shouted desperately, before the darkness took him, and he collapsed and tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs.

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"I've seen this before," Jack muttered. "Come on! We've got to get back to the Doctor!"

* * *

"What is it?" Green asked, still sitting next to the Doctor.

"Outside," murmured Brittany. "There is something outside."

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The creature reared up, eyes glowing red in the gloom. With a low roar, it smashes through the window to the bedroom, and locked its gaze onto the Doctor. Then it attacked.

* * *

The Doctor, Brittany and Captain Jack Harkness will return in **Forest of Shadows**.


End file.
